Within Puddles
by ifonlynotnever
Summary: ONE SHOT. Mitarai POV. How exactly did Sea Man find out about his powers?


_**Within Puddles**_

_Rating_: T.

_Genre_: Angst, General.

_Summary_: (One-Shot; Mitarai POV) How exactly did Sea Man find out about his powers?

**_Warnings_**: "Cutting" as an attempt at suicide. Slightly graphic, I suppose.

* * *

I'm so sick of it all. So sick of it. 

One hand reaches up to caress that black and blue bruise, like a badge of courage on my face.

A badge of courage. What a lie. It's a badge of cowardice, a reminder of how easily I crumble in the face of my oppressors. I hate them. I hate the way that they crush me, crush my spirit so easily. I hate the way that they make me feel, like I'm just some insignificant animal that they kick at because they can.

Because they can. Because they hate me.

I hate they way that they shun me and make me feel so diseased. I hate them. I hate them all.

Why won't they just leave me alone? Why won't they just die?

Or maybe I should be the one...

I like the rain.

I really do. From the way that the cold wetness as it slides down my cheek to the sound it makes as it falls onto the ground, forming puddles.

I like water in general, but especially the way that rain _is_, natural and beautiful.

It makes it just so fitting... that I'm going to die here... in the rain.

I have it all planned out. I have the knife in my hand.

For once, I'm not going to be afraid. I'm not going to be a coward.

I will do this.

But the moment the cold metal blade touches my skin, I can feel the panic rising in my throat. I can feel the goose bumps rising on my skin. I can feel myself just dying to flinch away from the touch of the weapon so close to me.

No. I'm going to do this.

Slowly, I press the blade into my flesh, slicing through it as though it's nothing but paper. Slowly, blood begins to ooze out, and the panic in my throat is beginning to become hard to contain. I try as hard as I can to squash it.

This really isn't the way I thought dying would be. I thought that it would bring an end to the thoughts that seep into my conscious mind, and that it would free me from my problems. But it's not. It's only causing them to come to the very forefront, bothering me and buzzing at me to pay attention.

I'm running away. That's all this is. I'm only running away from my problems, the way that I always do. Because I'm _weak_. I'm so damn _weak_.

I remember a week or two ago, after one of my ritual beatings.

I saw him.

He came to me, this man swathed in dark clothing and pretty words and this hope for our world to be destroyed. And I remember him telling me that I had power; I had the potential to be strong and fight back against those bullies who cornered me and rained blows down on me like the water that falls from the sky.

It's bullshit. If I could do that, I wouldn't be here. If I could fight back, I would have already. If I could be strong, I wouldn't feel this weak and helpless as I feel the droplets slide down my cheek, mixing with tears that have somehow managed to escape from my eyes without my even realizing it.

_It's bullshit, Mr. Sensui. I'm not strong and I never will be._

I turn my head and watch as the blood slides down into the puddle of water pooling out beside me.

Anger is pooling inside my head, too. I'm angry at myself and the bullies and that Mr. Sensui because he raised my hopes - raised my hopes that I could be better than this. And now that the hopes have been sufficiently quashed, all I can feel is anger - blinding - and this strange feeling, too, amidst the panic that hasn't fully receded yet.

And as I watch, the blood slowly dissipates in the water, and the water slowly takes shape, and the shape turns to me and grins a monstrous little grin that's so terrifying that it's almost cute.

And it's that moment that I black out.

* * *

When I come to, I feel a heavy gaze on me, and bandaging around my wrist. 

The one that I cut.

Slowly, I open my eyes, letting myself adapt to the lighting before I turn my head to see who, exactly, is watching over me.

It's that man. Mr. Sensui.

In the background, another man with is busying himself with something that I don't really care about because this man, the one with the heavy gaze and the convincing words, the one who feeds me these visions of a dream I can hardly bring myself to believe, he is taking up my entire attention.

He gives me a half-smile.

"Hello, there. I see you've finally come to."

"Yeah. Um, Mr. Sensui..."

"Yes?"

"While I was out in the rain..."

He smiles again as I tell my story, my voice shaking as I watch him, wondering if he thinks I'm just a crazy kid who actually took him seriously.

"I know. I'm never wrong about these things," he states, and bestows a warm glance on me.

And I just watch him dumbly, a maelstrom of emotions filling me. Confusion and awe and _empowerment_ all at once...

"Do you see what I meant when I said you had power? Do you see now, Mitarai?" Mr. Sensui pauses a moment.

"Or shall I say, _Sea Man_?"

* * *

**Author's Space**

I like the concept more than the actual fic. I didn't feel this one the way I felt _Death is Just a Phase. _Mitarai is harder than Hagiri, oddly enough.

It _seemed _like Sensui contacted The Seven at some point before they realized their psychic powers, but I doubt he went, "Hey kid, here's a knife. Bleed a little into this cup here." Maybe he did, but I thought this might be a bit more plausible. A bit.

Similarly, I don't think Sensui would show Mitarai the Chapter Black after their first or second meeting. A sort of trust would've probably had to be built first, however fragile it may have been. But maybe that's just my New York cynicism showing through.

Thanks so much for reading. Review or something. If you add it to a C2, I've gotta know, okay?

Love,

fluorescent


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